Hallelujah
by Kroissant
Summary: Haunted by the death of her brother, Mercedes goes to visit the Cathedral...and to her surprise, stumbles upon a familiar face. Themes of Mourning/Grieving.


**Hello, everyone! This is Kroissant!**  
**Here is an experiment I've been itching to write and originally, it was supposed to be a story without dialogue but ended up changing it at the last minute, which basically explains why I posted the fanfic up so late.**

**Anyway, there's a reason why I chose to write Sylvain/Mercedes - and for a good reason too (for experiment and research on their interactions).**

**For more feels, listen to Hallelujah sang by Rufus Rainwright and She is the Sunlight by Trading Yesterday (mostly for Sylvain's POV and you'll see why)**

**-Oh, and I would like to make a shoutout to Star_on_a_Staff and artists on Twitter for influencing me to pair these two up and loving them! Their chemistry has so much potential and is just so darn good!**

**That's all for now!**  
**Enjoy!**

* * *

It was a cold, moonless night.

The sky once painted with the sultry and mellow tinges of red, orange, and pink had gradually waned and archived into a yet another forlorn, and overlooked memory, leaving only but the dark, black canvas with no stars to look upon.

A fog of blackness flooded through the campus of Garreg Mach, and with the air so chilled, it became rather difficult for most to stay out and about.

As a congregation of people—friends, comrades, colleagues, and lovers alike—languidly march back to their quarters to retire for the night, one woman remained restless and fully conscious as she laid on her bed.

Staring up at the ceiling, Mercedes fixes her lips in a straight line, her eyebrows pinched together. Breathing out a long, exasperated sigh, she shuts her eyes tight as a whirlwind of memories snares her, refusing her to fall asleep and for the umpteenth time that day, was forced to relive everything which had occurred from last week—in the battle from which she, alongside her friends, managed to successfully conquer the fortress city.

—Known to all as the Impregnable Fort Merceus.

* * *

_Mercedes stood frozen._

_She watches, breathless and shaking to the core as Sylvain dashed toward their final enemy with his noble steed, and within seconds, lands a successful hit with his ancient relic._

_When her ears picked up the sound of an agonizing wail, her face drained of color._

_Suddenly, she could no longer make out what was happening around her._

_Her vision turned blurry, her breathing slowed, and her heart…it stopped beating._

_And as Sylvain reined his horse, pumping his fist into the air with smears of blood grazing on his handsome features, prompting many of the soldiers and their friends to cheer triumphantly on their victory—Mercedes was tackled with conflicted emotions._

_To assist Dimitri on his path of righteousness, to rid of the system which favors the strong trampling the weak and protect the millions of lives suffering under the oppressive rule of Edelgard and the Adrestian Empire—that was the mission, and it was a mission she gladly took it upon herself to see through with everyone._

_As such, their actions bear consequences._

_And she knew—she knew exactly what she was getting herself into._

_But…_

_Without thinking, Mercedes ran. _

_She did with all her might and didn't seem to care if anyone saw her in such a state of disarray, her brown beret stripped away from her by the strong, passing wind and the wooden staff she once held tossed away into the ground tainted in gore and rotting flesh._

_All that mattered to her, right then and there, was to reach him—her brother, and the very last remnant of her kin. _

"_Emilie!" She cries, dropping all sense of formality as she drew closer to him, and ever so carefully, drops her knees close to where he laid drowning in the pool of his blood, waiting for death to take him away._

_With shaky hands, Mercedes gently places her brother's head on her lap. As she did so, she instinctively intertwines her hands together and closes her eyes, but before she could recite the prayer, she hears him calling out to her._

"_Mer…cedes…"_

_Mercedes veers down and there, she saw his true self—long, wavy ashen locks, half-lidded periwinkle eyes, and a faint scar etched across his angular-shaped face…and his expression, so peaceful and tranquil—this was him, the real Emilie._

_"I'm here," She tells him firmly and reaches out to gently caress his pale, right cheek. It was cold. "Big sister is here…"_

"…_Mer…ce—"_

_"Don't talk too much, Emilie," Mercedes chides him, her gaze softening as she drinks up his entire appearance, memorizing every detail, and permanently carving it forever inside her head. "I don't want you to…" She notices him beginning to close his eyes and, in a panic, Mercedes brings her other hand to lightly shake his shoulder. "Please, stay awake…"_

_She could feel his slow breathing growing weak, and all she could do was sit there, hopeless and waiting, praying for this nightmare to end._

"_I'm so sorry…" Mercedes began, choking up on her words as tears flow down her cheeks. "This was all my fault for leaving you behind when I left House Bartels…" A pause. "I should have gone back for you sooner…" _

_Hanging her head, Mercedes closes her eyes, inhaling a deep breath to steady her racing heart. Withdrawing her hand from his cheek, she places them on his resting along the surface of his damaged, heavy armor. "I'm sorry…for not being a better sister to you…"_

_He was barely alive, so close to knocking death's door…_

_Sniffing, Mercedes looks back to face him and to her shock, his mouth was open and slightly twitching…was he trying to say something? Without thinking, she lowers her head closer, leaning her ear to his lips, hoping to get a chance to listen…but nothing was coming out._

_And then she realized—he was sputtering out a voiceless stream of words, and whether it was for her or to someone else, she couldn't seem to decipher nor hear any of it. Not when the immense applauses raining nearby were greatly intensifying, a parade to rejoice the living while she was over here, desperately keeping her poor brother from going to the light. _

_Brushing this aside, Mercedes fixes her attention on him, locking her eyes with the same shade as her own. More of her tears trailed down from her cheeks to her chin, and one by one, the droplets fell to Emilie's cheeks, and for a brief moment, he let his guard down for her, his eyes dried of tears…and yet, hers kept falling and rolling down his cheeks, making it seem as though he, too was crying as well._

"_I'm sorry…for not being a better sister to you…" Mercedes tells him, softer and gentler like how a mother would say to her child. Again, she tightens her grip on him, enveloping his cold and brittle hands with a touch of her warmth. "Please, forgive me…Emilie…"_

_And then she waited._

_Minutes passed and still nothing._

_Mercedes swallowed her saliva thickly, closing her eyes shut as she gripped harder on his callous hand…no longer able to do the same._

_Yet, Mercedes remained there, dipping her head and letting her forehead to press against his, weeping quietly as she slowly removed one of her hands away from the lifeless body of her brother to cover half of his face. _

_Eyes glimmering with watery tears, Mercedes broke down—bawling with all her might as her whole world crumbled around her._

_And just like that, Emilie…was gone._

* * *

Recalling the painful memory, Mercedes jolts upright from her bed.

Breathing heavily, she wipes away the trail of tears streaming along her flushed cheeks. Pushing away from the comforts of her blanket, she moves closer to the edge of the bed and simply sat there, staring blankly at the other side of the wall, deep in thought.

Slowly, she curls her hands into fists.

Rising to her feet, Mercedes strolls over to her closet and seizes the light brown shawl she used to wear with her academy attire and wraps it around her frame. Making sure the shawl was well-secured, she hurries to her study desk and after collecting a small candle and a pack of matches, was able to ignite a tiny flicker of flame. Blowing out the used match and tossing it to the trash, ever so carefully, Mercedes places the candle inside a lantern she stored in one of the cabinets.

Looking around, she peers up to catch a glimpse of the clock.

Mercedes shifts her attention to the lantern equipped in her hand, the exit from a distance, then back to the clock. Putting on a brave face, she strides forward.

By the stroke of midnight, Mercedes took flight, escaping from her chambers and venturing off into the dead of the night, her feet instinctively taking her to where her heart longed to go.

Moonlight shone through the cracked, stained-glass windows, casting an eerie glow on the dusty, ancient altar and the damaged mural which once depicted a beautiful rendering of the Holy Goddess Seiros.

Over the years, the monks and holy sisters cleaned the barren Cathedral—removing any traces of thick cobwebs found on the ceilings and underneath the unwinding, wooden rows and collection of dust bunnies on the now glossy, tiled floors—and little by little, the pious, sacred place was beginning to revert to its original, glorified state.

And yet somehow, none of them—not Dimitri, Byleth, Mercedes, or even Seteth dared to do away with the colossal debris and rubble found at the very heart of the Cathedral.

All came to a settled agreement to leave the chaos the way it is—to serve as a grave reminder of the dreadful warfare persisting outside the border walls of Garreg Mach, and until they were to retrieve the missing Archbishop Rhea from the clutches of Edelgard, nobody was to get rid of it.

* * *

Pushing the heavy oak doors and entering in, Mercedes held her breath.

She stood there silently, remaining unfazed by the abrupt shutting of the doors behind her nor the eerie howling of the gale through the great halls of the Cathedral, sending shivers down her spine.

Her expression passive, she squints her eyes to scrutinize her darkened surroundings.

She takes one step, flinching a little as she heard the small heels of her purple slippers resonate in the air, the sound deafening on the cold stone floor. She bites her tongue hard, her face slightly red for having to cause such a disturbance.

Luckily for her, there was no way that anybody could have heard it…right?

From the corner of her eye, she spots a tall, lone silhouette standing near the large pile of debris, hidden and shrouded in complete darkness.

Upon the curious sight, Mercedes found herself somewhat drawn to the stranger. Slowly and steadily, she ambles her way toward his direction, raising her lantern a bit higher to let the tiny spark of flame to illuminate her path in amidst of the obscurity.

As she drew closer and closer, the more prominent their features became.

Based on how they stood and their natural build, no doubt the mysterious figure was male, clad in thick, heavy armor—dyed in pitch-black, and accentuated with prickly spikes on their shoulder blades and lower waist.

Mercedes catches her breath, halting midway in her tracks as she lifts her arm higher above her head, shedding light to identify the stranger.

Her eyes turned wide, covering her mouth quickly with her other hand.

Behind him was a long, crimson cape, tattered and torn, flowing freely as a cold, chilling gale wafted by.

As Mercedes dares to take another step, the tall figure takes notice of her presence and slowly peers over his shoulder.

A devil-horned mask.

Her mind went blank for a second, her eyes wide as she stared at the familiar figure before her. Her heart fell silent.

"…Emilie," Mercedes manages to say, breathless and fragmented. "…You're alive,"

There were no words spoken from the latter, and yet, his silence said volumes to her.

She was there in the frontlines, watched her beloved brother sink to his despair and plummeted to the ground, with his swollen body lifeless and still, and periwinkle eyes devoid of life.

She was there when he had reached his limit, and she was there when he had passed in his sleep, as she had cried and wept for him, begging to the Goddess Seiros, to Saint Cethlenn, Saint Cichol and to the other divine deities Dedue had taught her—anyone who would have the patience to listen to her plea to allow her dear brother to ascend to the afterlife, where she may someday reunite with him when her time in this world had ceased to an end.

Her Emilie was dead and what he had left was nothing more than his signature devil-horned mask.

But this man standing before her…from head to toe, he was an exact carbon copy of her dead brother. Could this person truly be Emilie?

While pondering her thoughts, Mercedes dares to take a peek at the 'Death Knight' who looks back at her ominously. She lets her eyes travel to the scythe he gripped firmly on his right hand, then back up to properly face him.

She presses her lips together, uncertain of whether this person was indeed her brother or merely a ghost of his former self.

Setting the lantern down on the tiled flooring, Mercedes fixes her full attention on him. Gathering her hands together and pressing them close to her chest, she recites a small prayer to ease her nerves as she boldly takes one step forward. Her breathing hitches, growing hesitated to keep moving, and yet, with one look at him, and the memories still flooding inside her head, a sharp pain pierces her—pain, guilt, happiness, sadness, and regret binding her form, and consuming her whole.

Her eyes glistened with tears, and before she knew it, Mercedes found herself rushing in, leaping and tackling him out of nowhere. The tears came and spilled freely down her guilt-stricken face, her chin trembling and for the first time, she was vulnerable out in the open, reverting to her younger self—to the small, distressed child who needed her mother.

"I'm sorry…" Mercedes sobs unceasingly, hands clutching at his heavy armor as she buries her face deeper into his armor-plated chest. "I'm so sorry, Emilie …"

The sheer pain she had bottled in came in voluminous waves; minutes of sobbing broken apart by the short, thin pauses before hurling back into the storm.

"I should've been there…you didn't deserve to suffer so much…" Mercedes goes on, her loud wailing ripping through the tensions of her muscles, bones, and guts. "Please, forgive me, Emilie, …please…"

She needed to tell him how she truly felt—of her longing to turn back time for a second chance, to see him when he was a babe, watch him grow, and be there to support and encourage him—and take on the role as his doting older sister; a job she knew she could take pride in, and a job she knew she was born to do from the very start.

Yet, the emergence of the Crest was what mattered to her step-father and shortly after Emilie came to the world, he and Mercedes had been torn apart.

He had a tragic beginning, and sadly, his ending was the same way—alone to fend for himself in the shadows, desperate for someone to give him attention, to love him and cherish him…

Maybe in another time, was it possible for them to reunite without any sort of violence nor price of death? Was it sinful to save him in spite of the countless lives—men, women, and children, all who had surrendered to their demise thanks to him?

Such disturbing, and pragmatic thoughts ran in Mercedes's head as she cried time and time again, failing to realize that the 'Death Knight' pulled her closer to him, still vacant of words to say and yet, was there as a source of comfort while she was overwhelmed with emotions, and exploding all the deepest sorrows and grievances she kept in for so long.

'Death Knight' snakes his arms around her, his claw-like hands settling on her back and remained there as the poor woman continuously wept. Time stood still for the two of them, and soon Mercedes and her raspy, unruly sniveling diminished in a single heartbeat.

Craning her head a little, Mercedes looks up to the red, soulless eyes of the beast.

She purses her lips, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to make sense of the foreign feeling blossoming inside her.

Was it strange for her to say that the mysterious 'Death Knight' was familiar to her?

Aside from Emilie, it seems as though this person…from their stance and gestures alone, was comfortable around her? Withdrawing away from his touch, Mercedes retreats backward, her eyes never tearing away from the 'Death Knight'.

Under the rays of the moonlight, she finally became aware of a notable detail—the spikes on his shoulders were shorter compared to the original, and his heavy armor held a lustrous shine.

"…Sylvain? Is that you?"

From a distance, Mercedes noticed the 'Dark Knight' turn frozen in his spot, and upon that sight, the corners of her mouth quirked upwards.

"It _is_ you, is it not?" She presses on, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she suppressed the urge to emit a light-hearted giggle. Approaching him, she reaches out for his helmet, and to her surprise, the 'Death Knight' places his claw-like hands on top of her own.

Mercedes smiles at this and takes another step forward, mustering all the strength and energy she could to unveil the true identity of the imposter.

Once the helmet was removed, everything settled into place.

Wild, red mane came into view.

Mercedes slowly lifts her chin, smiling faintly as she made contact with soft, marron eyes.

She watches him quickly turn his head the other way, a line etched between his brows.

Even so, Mercedes retains the same, pleasant grin. "Hello, Sylvain,"

Hearing this, Sylvain looks back to face her, sadness clouding his features. "So, you knew," He finally spoke up, sounding defeated. He went quiet for a while, prying his mouth a few times but the words he wanted—no, needed to say couldn't come out. He rubs the back of his neck tiredly. "Mercedes…I—"

A finger was pressed against his chapped lips, stopping him from going any further.

"It's okay," She assures him, followed by another smile. "I know,"

And she did.

Once again, recalled the memory of the aftermath of the battle—of her leaving Emilie in the dust as Annette takes her by the hand and pulls her to where the others were.

Mercedes remembered, how as she wandered away to return to the living, a blur of red and black caught her eye, and whirling her head around, witnessed Sylvain marching up to Emilie, and bent one knee down, hands intertwining, and head lowered.

Regardless of the great distance, she heard it—his soft murmurings, laced in mourning and grief, how wrongful it was for him to have killed such a good man, claiming that he had no other choice in the matter, and just like her, sincerely wishes for the dead man to be forgiven of his sins and ascend to the heavens.

And that was that.

As for the mystery of how Sylvain manages to claim Emilie's devil-horned mask and long, red cape, Mercedes suspects that his reasonings behind it might somewhat be linked to his guilt over being the one to finish off her brother when she couldn't do it.

It was a fair trade, to say the least, with him disguising himself as the 'Death Knight' for Mercedes to finally expose her true emotions and pour them out from inside of her, as a way to compensate for what he had done.

Something warm lightly brushed her flushed, right cheek, forcing Mercedes to revert to reality. Coming back to her senses, she looks up, discovering a pair of marron eyes staring intensely back at her.

"Mercedes…"

"Yes?"

He leans a bit more until their foreheads touch with the air around them growing dense and thick. Suddenly, it became rather difficult for her to breathe. Even so, Mercedes didn't care and let him do as he pleases.

"I promised to protect you, didn't I?" Sylvain replies to her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "**Show me your silvery tears, the ones on the skin and in your heart. Show them all to me, the ones you've shed when the world refuses to see it. What the eyes miss yet love renders visible**."

A confident grin spreads across his lips and he went on with his thought-provoking speech. "**The bravest thing you'll ever do, my love, is to show me your tears. For what is tearing you apart cannot be a part of you but something I am here to get rid of, all for the sake to see the smiling face of the angel**,"

Mercedes tilts her head, soaking his words in before erupting into a light burst of laughter. "Oh, my…" She trails off, not knowing what else to say and instead, forces out another grin, "That was…something,"

Sylvain frowns. "You didn't like it?"

"It was great," She replies earnestly, a hint of amusement embedded in her eyes. "Have you been practicing it for a while?"

Sylvain shrugs his shoulders, his burning red face perfectly concealed by the shadows. "Just…something I picked up from a book I read earlier," He explains, not afraid to exhibit his romantic side. He notices her relaxing and smiles, glad to know how he was the one to send her in high-spirits. "Anyway—"

His words got cut off as Mercedes surprises him with a kiss on the lips. It was brief and short, and as she withdrew, left Sylvain dumbstruck, quickly tracing one of his fingers along with his chapped lips.

Even now, it was slightly tingling.

"Thank you, Sylvain,"

Blinking, Sylvain lowers his gaze to meet hers and when he caught her smiling, the redhead couldn't help but do the same.

"From the bottom of my heart, I thank you," Mercedes tells him, holding tightly onto the devil-horned mask nestled in her arms. "You finally brought him back to me…" She trails off, beads of more tears falling one after another, without any sign of stopping. Still, she laughs and cracks a bittersweet grin. "Emilie…he's finally home,"

Sylvain smiles at this, reaches out to wipe away her tears with his thumbs. Once he made sure there were no tears left, he goes on to cup her chin and locking their eyes, swoops in to steal a kiss from her.

"If you ever need someone to lend you a shoulder or to let out your emotions, I'll always be available," Sylvain says to her shortly after they broke away and he wraps his arms again around her waist, bringing her close to his chest though not too close as the helmet was there, and then places his chin on top of her head. With his claw-like hands, he goes on to stroke her back gently, closing his eyes as he allows a moment of stillness to come forth.

Reminiscing a memory of their time together, comfortable, open and for him, no longer afraid to speak genuinely from the heart, especially when it came to her—Sylvain cracks a lop-sided grin and closes his eyes as he recites a quote from her—his special lady and future bride to be.

"**Don't ever be ashamed of crying. I'm here to protect you. Always."**

* * *

**And there we have it! The end of the story!**

**Watching the Sylvain/Mercedes (what's their shipping name?) support made me realize that for the majority of it, it was Mercedes who helped Sylvain through his pain and accepted him for who he is. And so, I thought it would be great to do a role reverse-this time, letting Mercedes go to her vulnerable state (in this case, grieving over her dead half-brother) and Sylvain being the one to comfort her.**

**It's a bit messy, but the story overall - how it begins and ends especially - have a very strong symbolism to it.**

**Leave comments/kudos if you'd like (they are greatly appreciated!)**  
**And after this, prepare yourself with a wave of felannie fluff later tonight and tomorrow.**

**As always, have a wonderful day!**


End file.
